


Reflected

by evelynwaaaaah, Evren



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Feels, F/M, Fic Crossover, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-04-02 07:18:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4051201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evelynwaaaaah/pseuds/evelynwaaaaah, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evren/pseuds/Evren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short and sweet/bittersweet! The morning after Evin Lavellan shares one night of passion with Solas, she's suddenly swept into an alternate version of Thedas. Someone else's body, someone else's face -- and Solas calls her... Hal'lasean? </p>
<p>Hal'lasean Lavellan just wanted some sweet, sleepy morning sex, but the Solas she finds isn't the Solas she wants. Or even a Solas she likes. </p>
<p>This is a crossover between two Lavellans, an exploration of the twists and turns of a relationship with Solas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Mourning After

Evin Lavellan didn't want to open her eyes. A delicious golden warmth filled her limbs. A soothing contentment whispered that at least for this one moment everything was right with the world. She stretched a little in the cozy place she'd burrowed in Solas' bed, under his blankets, surrounded by his scent. Then her eyes snapped open and she abruptly sat up.

Solas wasn't there.

He wasn't here—and she was lying on his little couch in the floor of the rotunda wearing not a stitch of clothes.

 _How many saw us here?_ she asked herself, and felt a heady blush steal across her cheeks.

She hugged herself, still lost in the wonder of those moments, the aching tenderness of the physical closeness they'd finally shared. Warmth spread through her belly, a floating euphoria that so often came over her when she thought of him.

 _Let me show you in the Fade_ , he'd said, but it became much more.

Where was Solas? If he was a very dear, sweet man, he would have gone to fetch her tea. She could tell by the light in the rotunda that morning was very near. She had better locate her clothes before too many more servants woke up and found her here. How they would talk.

She didn't mind at all—and her lips began another unwilling, wondering smile. Her heart thudded.

She found her garments in a pile beside the couch. They'd absorbed the cold of the stone floor—her fingers fumbled. Somehow Solas had managed to rip her undershirt down the seam. She shrugged into it anyway, pulling it over the marks he'd left on her breasts. Her jacket was next, but she didn't bother with the clasps. She shivered a little at the cold air and hurried with her trousers and boots. When she stood, she felt that telltale ache—a delicious soreness, and the test of weakness in her legs. She giggled at it and went to find her lover.

She had no thought but trust.

The Inquisitor did not think to look up before she left. In the air above the rotunda, surrounded by equidistant fields of brilliant color in fresco, a small pulsing light—a tear in the Veil generated by the unusual circumstance of the Anchor in passionate disarray. A sleepy rift about to wake... and remake the world with hunger.

* * *

Evin pushed through the door to the Main Hall. A few torches shed their smoky light, a few drowsy guards twitched to sharper awareness by her entrance. The night steward nodded a greeting. She ducked her head, pulled her jacket closer around her and walked very quickly to the door that led up to her chambers.

As she pulled open the door to the stairs she paused for a moment. In the dim light it was hard to tell—had something changed about the Main Hall? Had that banner always looked that color in the dark? A puzzling notion. She shook her head, continued up the steps into the shadows.

Pushed open the door to her chamber—the final staircase. In her bed, a man asleep, soft smile at his lips as he walked the dreaming Fade he loved. Solas....

She let her jacket slip to the floor. Climbed in beside him—laughing softly with delight—how frequently she had dreamed of waking beside him, of opening her eyes and seeing him next to her, how many times she'd reached for someone who wasn't there. He'd never allowed it, never let himself get that close, never trusted himself to linger. Until last night.

Solas roused just enough to press his face into her neck. His arm snaked across her shoulder, drew her close. "Hal'lasean," he murmured.

A sleep talker. What an endearing man. She liked learning these things—

"What's that?" she asked, laughing a little, encouraging him.

His eyelids fluttered. Sleepy eyes. "Your name, vhenan."

"Are you trying to be clever? I'm a little fragile right now—"

"Hal'la?"

_"Who's Hal'la?"_

"You are—unless I am dangerously mistaken."

* * *

They stared at each other across the bed. She clutched her undershirt to her chest. Had he suddenly gone insane? Could this be the remnant of a Fade dream gone wrong? She glanced at the table beside the bed—the scroll she'd been reading wasn't there. Instead, a planter of flowers she'd never seen before. Similar to the flowers Solas kept in his rotunda. What were they doing here?

The fireplace—her compound bow wasn't beside it. Instead, a pair of heavy armchairs she hadn't seen before. A set of stiletto daggers she didn't know how to wield.

_What in the void is going on?_

"Where's my staff?" she asked suddenly.

"Your... staff?"

"The staff of ice Fiona gave me. You were going to show me—"

"A mage's staff?"

She looked down at herself—realized her undershirt wasn't torn. Her hand went to her hair— _not_ her hair. Not her hand. _Not her body._

Roaring filled her ears—pulse jagged—panic seizing hold. She couldn't breathe. Choked back rising bile.

"Is this a dream? Wake me, please—"

"Hal'la, what's wrong?" he asked.

Someone else's name. She scrambled out of the bed, almost fell and steadied herself on the edge. Where was her looking glass? She turned back to Solas—the one person she would trust in such a situation.

What if it wasn't really him? What had he taught her about the Fade? _They may seek to trick you. Beware the dream that promises everything you ever wanted._

Her fingers felt icy with sudden fear. She must have wandered too far alone, and now she was trapped in a demon's realm. It had to be a dream. A curious lucid dream if so—a freckle on her left wrist, one she didn't have, an unusual detail. Other differences too.

Her hands were shaking. Not her hands—

"Is this the Fade?" she asked—mostly to herself.

How to wake from a dream? Those first, halting lessons.

She gathered her will, a simple shape, a spasm of mana. Wake up.

Wake up.

_Wake up!_

Solas regarded her with narrowed eyes. "This is no dream. And you are not Hal'lasean."

* * *

His magic snapped out—a membrane of ice crashed over her. She didn't fight it, she let it overwhelm her in her bewilderment. If this wasn't a dream then he really was Solas. And she didn't understand what had happened or where they were. Woven ice bound her limbs—paralyzed her fingers—she couldn't move. She could barely breathe. Who was this Hal'lasean he'd named? Was that the person whose shape she wore?

Solas vaulted over the bed. He seized her by the collar of her jacket, shoved her back, shook her a little. "What do you call yourself, era'harel? Spirit or demon? Why choose that form? What have you done with the Inquisitor?"

"I _am_ the Inquisitor! My name is Evin. But this—this isn't me!"

There was a look in his eyes she'd only seen once or twice before, the way he'd looked at the mages on the shore of the Enavuris after Wisdom's death. She was afraid he really would hurt her. _This isn't my Solas... and I am not his Inquisitor. I have to prove myself. Prove I'm neither spirit nor abomination._

But how?

Could she still access her power here? Could she weigh the balance of the present? She needed to determine the best path forward.

Evin focused her eyes past him, felt for the power in her left hand. The Mark's siren call, ever present, and her magic—halting but there. She could make it work. She caught the moment in her web and captured it.

Ah—

She'd recently begun to think of the things she saw with the Mark in a new way. She visualized the lines of possibility as the branches of a tree, potential futures that hinged on her decisions.

She didn't recognize these branches.

They belonged to someone else's life.

No tangle here. The lines ran long and straight. Why was hers so complicated by comparison? What an inconvenience. Solas— _this_ Solas loved his Inquisitor. The two of them enjoyed a closeness she'd never known. Why?

Painful to see what someone else shared with the one she loved, to witness second hand an intimacy she'd barely begun to imagine possible, that frustrated her with longing. 

She forced herself to look away. She scanned the immediate options and chose the most successful branch.

"Ask me something she would know," Evin said.

Solas regarded her for a moment. His mouth was a grim line. "Do not try—"

"You'll know if I deceive you," Evin said. "Yes. That's why. Now ask."

"The carriage we took from Halamshiral," Solas said. "As we left the Winter Palace. What was it you said?"

Evin shook her head. "We didn't take a carriage. You told everyone you were my servant. I returned to Skyhold through Briala's eluvian."

"That did not happen," Solas said.

"For me it did."

Thoughtful eyes. The hand on her collar relaxed. "You do not lie. At the very least you believe what you say."

"Curious, isn't it?" Evin asked. She flexed her hand under the weakening ice, woke the Mark, and shattered his spell. "Now help me get Hal'lasean back."

* * *

"Then you believe yourself to be the Inquisitor. From another... branch of history?" Solas asked.

Evin was grateful, so very grateful he was here, that he was willing to consider her crazy story. He wasn't _her_ Solas but he was clever. If anyone could help her figure this out, it was him.

She wanted to go home. She wanted to see her Solas again and hold him in her arms. And she wanted this Solas to have his Hal'lasean back.

She'd decided to continue with truth. It was the first time she'd ever discussed her sight with Solas, but now it seemed necessary. It left her feeling defensive and raw. 

It seemed this Inquisitor had never told her Solas about the Anchor's power either.

"The Mark helps me perceive possible futures," she said. "It's not so strange. Consider Redcliffe. Why couldn't there be another set of branches? Another Lavellan? For all I know there could be dozens, even hundreds of us. Maybe in some histories the person who acquires the Mark is human. Or male. Or dead."

"An intriguing thought," Solas said.

"It intrigues you how frequently the Inquisitor dies?"

"I did not mean that of course. It intrigues me how blithely you refer to these _branches_ as though time magic were your particular toy. I had no idea the Mark could be used in such a way. At Redcliffe, you told me—. Hal'la told me—"

"For me it began with Redcliffe. I assume it was the same for her."

"Perhaps," he sounded dubious. "Not that I accept the hypothesis, but merely for argument's sake, how do you think you came to be here? By what mechanism?"

"I don't know," Evin said. "I suppose it's rather strange that it happened the morning after we—. Um. Did it. For the first time."

Solas' eyebrows lifted. "If your relationship is anything like ours I'm astonished by my counterpart's self-control."

"Yes, astonishing," Evin muttered.

Wonderful how he just assumed the lack of progress was all on his side. Not that he was wholly wrong, but it was such an arrogant thing to take for granted. Of course, that had been part of his appeal—the sweetness of seeing desire build in his eyes, watching while passion swept away resistance.

Evin was seated on the bed again, hugging her knees. Solas stood across from her, hand braced on his chin, deep in thought. She felt jittery and nervous in this shape. What happened last night was still so new to her, an experience she wanted to savor in the privacy of her thoughts. To tell _this_ Solas about it—. Well, he wasn't exactly a stranger, was he? 

It was so confusing to know the feelings behind his eyes weren't meant for her.

It was probably equally confusing for him.

"Nothing about the encounter seemed unusual to you?" he asked suddenly.

" _Unusual?_ It was—" _Not her Solas. Not her Solas._ Wrong time for accolades! Evin drew a steadying breath. "He met me in the Fade. And then we—. Maker, this is embarrassing."

"Doubtless a coincidence. I am fairly certain Hal'la and I would have uncovered any untoward side effects by now."

"Doubtless," Evin said under her breath.

"Have there been any recent arrivals to Skyhold? Your Skyhold, obviously?"

"Wait," Evin said. "There _was_ something. You activated the Mark. In the Fade. What if you somehow disrupted the path I was on? What if you synced me in time to someone else?"

Her Solas wasn't aware of how she used the Mark. Could that have been it? Could his interference have broken something, accessed some other dreamer?

"Same moment, same location, nearly the same person," Evin continued. "Fenedhis! How do I undo this?"

"I think we should—"

Solas was interrupted by a fist banging on the door below. The sound of a door slamming open, then footsteps pounding up the stairs.

"Are you awake?" a cultured voice asked. "You're not nude, are you?"

"Dorian?" Evin asked, amazed.

"Do come quickly," the Tevinter mage said. "A wonderfully tingly rift just opened in the library."

* * *

Evin's mind went blank—thoughts vanished. A rift? In Skyhold? Wasn't the first thing every mage said on arriving some variation of: _My, how old the Veil is here. Yes, the Veil is certainly very solid and well constructed in these parts._

How could a rift have formed in the... library. Which was right above the... rotunda. Where she had awoken this morning.

"A staff," Evin said. "I need a staff."

"For you, Hal? Anything. But what do you intend to do with it?" Dorian asked.

"Take mine," Solas said.

Her fingers closed around a heavy wooden stave, balanced at the top with a smooth and silvery caduceus. She felt so much better with one at hand. A mage's staff meant more possibilities, and that always made her feel more cheerful. But from Dorian's remark it seemed Hal'lasean wasn't a mage. These confusing differences—

"So, that rift," Dorian said. "I was just about to toddle off to bed when I noticed it. I wouldn't ask you to work at such an ungodly hour but you know how people can be."

"Yes, of course," Evin said.

"The demons, the screaming—"

"If I close the rift it might snap the connection between myself and Hal'lasean," Evin said. "It could send me home."

"I hope you are very certain, Inquisitor," Solas said. "What if it traps you here permanently?"

What if it trapped Hal'lasean on the other side? That thought must have Solas deeply worried, Evin realized. 

_Did we switch places?_ she wondered. _Is Hal'lasean in my body right now? Did she go searching for Solas too? What did she tell him?_

"What trap?" Dorian asked.

"Never mind," Evin said. "Let's go."

The stairs in near total darkness—the shadowy Main Hall where the night steward met them, eyes wide and red-rimmed.

The door to the rotunda—cool blue veilfire light drowned by the snarling whisper of a pale green rift that had formed just below the level of the library walk. The tear in the Veil was in a halfway state, neither open nor closed. Evin could sense it calling to the Mark, an answering magic that burned in her left hand like living flame.

"An unusual rift," Solas said. "I've never seen its like."

"I agree, and I've become something of a connoisseur," Dorian said. "They're usually greener, aren't they? More emerald colored? This one's a bit washed-out. Perhaps that means it's weaker?"

 _Do I open it or close it?_ Evin asked herself. She felt Solas' gaze on her and flushed.

"Dorian, has the rookery been evacuated? I don't want anyone to get hurt," she said.

"An excellent idea. I'll go see about it, shall I," he said.

"Special knowledge?" Solas asked when the human had left. "Or are your words intended only for my ears?"

"There's no reason to confuse him, whatever the outcome," Evin said.

The apostate's face was deadly grim—a frightening intensity. But then, he was worried, and she wasn't his Lavellan. "Despite your abilities you don't know what to do, do you?"

"You can't see over a ridge until you climb it," she replied.

The branching lines of someone else's life. Long and straight and running into glory, struggle, and despair. But also joy.

Where was the branch that ended today? The one that terminated this very instant?

She gripped the staff, focusing her mana to peel back each layer while Solas stood silently beside her, regarding the rift with patient, ancient eyes.

She'd never told her Solas about the things she saw with the Mark. She'd thought about it—but every time she tried to talk about the Anchor he stopped her with some comment about how strange its magic was, how little any mage understood. As though it wasn't something he wanted to discuss. 

And after all, what did Solas know about the Mark? He was a self-taught apostate. He studied spirits and the Fade. In this she was alone.

Or so she'd thought. Maybe she'd been wrong to conceal it from him. Now that their relationship had changed, maybe she owed him a deeper level of honesty. A proof of her commitment.

No matter what happened after.

"My Solas doesn't know about the Mark," she said. "He doesn't know what I've seen."

Solas grew very still, but his voice held no special emphasis. "You did not tell him? Then—how far into the future did you look? What did you learn?"

"I know that you leave because of the Orb. It alters the fabric of the world—all the branches change. I hope Hal'lasean finds a way to keep you here. I could not."

The path where he stayed with her simply did not exist.

"She does not have power like yours," Solas said. "Hers is... different."

Superior there, too. Evin felt a tightness in her throat. "To have built all this without my vision? The thought humbles me. She must be an extraordinary person."

"I do not disagree."

"This was one of the happiest days of my life," Evin said. "And now I see how little I have, how much I must be lacking. He doesn't love me the way you love her."

"I can assure you that isn't the case."

 _What a kind thing to say,_ she thought, _when he doesn't know me at all._

"I hope you get her back. Thank you for saying—what you said."

"Evin, wait—"

She reached out with the Mark—and inverted the rift, twisting it shut from the inside. As it closed she felt the thread of her life snap into blank, black, darkness.

* * *

Her head was full of someone else's thoughts—what a fascinating dream. No, it was more than a dream. There was something she had to tell him.

She had to find him first.

Evin checked her bedchamber, but of course Solas wasn't there. In the armory she found his chest empty. He'd claimed his armor and his traveling staff.

And she felt a stab of pain. He'd left? After the night they'd spent together... he'd vanished so quickly?

"Has Solas gone somewhere?" she asked the attendant.

The man nodded companionably. "Ah, yes. The apostate went to scout the paths around Skyhold. He said he detected an unusual change in the Veil and that he'd be back in a few days. Do you need him?"

Even as she spoke she felt the strange memories fading—a dream that dissolved in sunlight. "I wanted to ask him about something. I... don't quite remember what. I suppose it wasn't important."

A strange dream, she told herself.

She gazed down at the sleeping Anchor. There was time for all that later. Worlds upon worlds of time—and whatever it was could wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Evin Lavellan from my main fic, [Wolf In The Breast](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3726364/chapters/8256970). I consider this entry pretty much AU but all the character notes for her are accurate.
> 
> [evelyn](http://archiveofourown.org/users/evelynwaaaaah/pseuds/evelynwaaaaah), it was a huge privilege sharing your universe and your Solas! And so much fun!
> 
> Playlist: [Muscle Memory - Lights](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jFqFaYOYdUg). The person she reaches for in the dark, even when he's not there.
> 
> \---
> 
> Elvish language:  
> Era'harel - demon-mage  
> Vhenan - Heart (an endearment)


	2. The Sweeping Truths

Hal'lasean Lavellan couldn't sleep. It didn't happen often these days, with Solas' arms around her, with his gentle instruction and coaxing to help her find the Fade on nights her spirit seemed unwilling, but it did happen occasionally. So she woke early and kissed her sleeping lover's forehead before carefully disentangling from his limbs and slipping out of bed to dress. There was no need to draw him from the Fade simply because she kept getting ejected back into her body.

She made her usual rounds for these restless hours: she visited the battlements and greeted the night guards, stood at the walls and looked out at the mountains beyond, and when she was cold and focused, she nipped into the kitchen for bread and cheese and tea and brought it with her to the rotunda, where she settled in comfortably on Solas' couch with whatever book he had on his desk, under a blanket that smelled like him (but also more than a little like her and like sex).

"Who's down there?" came a voice from Dorian's favorite spot in the library. "Is it a beautiful elven woman with eyes like the Nocen Sea and an ass that brings nations to their knees? Or is it that tawdry bald fellow?"

She looked up just as he peeked over the balcony and they grinned tiredly at each other. "Neither," she decided. "It's just me. But let me know if you see that elven woman. I could really make use of an ass like that in the Inquisition."

"I believe the Inquisition already has its fill of asses. Aren't you sleeping with one?" 

"I'm talking with one."

Their grins grew. 

"What are you doing up so early?" he wondered, draping his folded arms on the balcony railing.

"Couldn't sleep," she sighed. "As usual. What are you doing up so late?"

"Reading," he admitted with a helpless shrug. "As usual."

"Want some company?" Hal asked, though truthfully she didn't know if she wanted company. She was a little relieved when he shook his head.

"I've got two chapters left in this beast of a tome and I refuse to sleep until it's done." His grin turned lascivious. "And you are much too distracting, my dear."

"Yes," Hal sighed, as if it were a gift and a curse, "I can only imagine what a difficult time you have concentrating what with all your fantasies about my breasts and vagina."

Dorian barked a laugh. "Don't be lewd. That's my job." He pushed off the banister and took a step back. "If you fall asleep, try not to snore. I'm very busy up here." 

Hal laughed. "I think you have me confused with Bull. We do look an awful lot alike." She heard his laugh from approximately where his chair usually stood and then the rustling of fabric and pages. They sat in comfortable silence for some time, she with her early breakfast and a book that catalogued artifacts found in various elven temples around Thedas, he with whatever it was he was reading. But when her food was done and her cup was empty and she didn't think she could bear another list of mediocre bows and armor found by a headless statue of Andruil, she thumped her book closed with a heavy sigh.

"I give up," she called without looking up. Maybe if she had, she would have noticed the newborn split in the Veil, the awakening of a rift just above the rotunda. "I'm going back to bed. Try to actually get some sleep before the sun comes up!"

"I make no promises! Give your apostate a big, sloppy kiss for me."

She was smirking and amused as she wandered back out into the Main Hall and she gave the night steward a smile in greeting. She'd decided that she'd sneak back into bed, cuddle Solas awake, and then take him inside her. Maybe after that she'd be able to get some sleep. Or at least then being awake wouldn't be so terrible.

She was already pleasantly warm with the thought of just how she'd convince her lover that she was more interesting than his Fade when the anchor flared hot in her hand and the world warped around her.

Branches. Tangled branches of trees overhead -- no, wait, it was upside down, they weren't branches, they were a reflection, an image in reverse -- leafless and barren with winter, purple like Mythal's vallaslin that marked her face. A forest. She must be in a forest.

Wait. Purple? What trees were purple?

And there was something else. Something... _in_  the branches.

Choice. Each branch was a single choice.

* * *

Just as quickly as the vision appeared -- if it was a vision -- it vanished again, and as Hal's senses returned to her surroundings, she found herself back in the Main Hall, fallen forward on one of the tables with the night steward holding her elbow with a worried expression. She let out a laugh and felt her cheeks heat. "Thanks. I'm okay, just..." What was a plausible thing to say here? 'I had a vision of an elven goddess' vallaslin like branches of possible futures overhead.' "A little overtired, I guess."

"Perhaps, Your Worship, you might could use a bit more rest."

She smiled at him gratefully as she straightened and flexed her extremities for signs of twisting or bruising. "You're probably right. I'll go do that n--" Did her voice sound weird? Her voice sounded a little weird. Maybe she was coming down with something. Her gaze flicked up to a banner behind him and her lips twisted down at the corners in confusion. "...Is that new? I thought it was..." She shook her head and laughed again. "Right. Sleep." Probably Josie just changed it without telling her for the arrival of some dignitary or other. It wasn't important and she needed to find Solas. Whatever just happened had something to do with the anchor and he was the only one who could help.

And then afterward, maybe morning sex. Although her body still ached a little from last night. 

Wait. Did they have sex last night? She supposed they must have, sore as she was. Maybe she really did need some rest. Maybe she was going crazy. She flexed her marked hand experimentally and frowned when it sparked. Surely this wasn't a dream, right? 

Solas wasn't in her quarters. But these weren't her quarters. Not quite. The bed was the same but her armchairs were gone, there was a scroll where there should be flowers, the rug was the same pattern but the colors were slightly different, her collection of daggers was gone -- though that could easily have been Cole's doing -- and next to the fireplace was a compound bow. A very nice compound bow, one that she wouldn't mind owning but one that she definitely did not own. Hal almost thought Sera must have broken in and changed out all her things while she was gone...except for those branches. All those branches.

She had to find Solas.

And since things were getting a little too weird, she took the bow and its arrows with her. Just in case.

* * *

"Solas?" She knocked lightly at the door to his room but it had been a long time since Hal'lasean had actually bothered to wait for his permission to enter and she was already opening his door. He was a man who loved his privacy, it was true, but there hadn't been much need for it between them since he told her he loved her on her balcony. They never talked much about their pasts or their futures (should they live to have them), so there were things they didn't know, but they weren't the important things. Not the really important things. It was spirit that mattered. And she knew his.

"Solas, something's--" He was standing just beyond the door, fully dressed for the day, but he was staring at her in surprise, as though he had never thought to expect her to come to him here. "--wrong." And something was wrong, but it was wrong with him. She could see it in the way his eyes wrinkled at the corners, in the particular set of his mouth in his neutrality, in the turmoil behind his grey-blue eyes. "Solas..." she breathed, all worry for him, and quickly stepped inside, shutting the door behind her.

"Evin," he said, still stunned, and she lifted her brows at him. Star? That one was new, but she couldn't say she didn't like it. "What are you...?" For a moment neither of them said anything. He hid behind his careful mask and she waited for him to speak. But when it didn't seem he would or could, she set her weapons aside and stepped into him, reached up to stroke his cheek and kiss him lovingly on the lips. At first he was stiff and unresponsive, but soon he softened and slipped his hand around her waist and kissed her back. 

But it wasn't their usual easy kissing, the effortless magnetism of his lips and hers. This was something else, something restrained, something conflicted. Almost like the first time she kissed him in the Fade. 

Something was wrong.

Hal pulled back and tilted her head at her lover, her expression fond and concerned. She always made a point to leave herself open for him, to be honest and easily read, as though it might help teach him to do the same. Normally it worked. Normally, he let the mask slip just a little, allowed her to coax him out from behind it. This morning, though...

"You're upset," she murmured. It was a question and a statement. Her eyes narrowed but her visage stayed soft, like charming a wild thing. It was a dance she knew well by now, though not one she'd had to use in some time. He didn't answer. His expression didn't change. That was how she knew she was right. She smiled at him sweetly and continued to pet his cheek with her fingers, to trace his ear. "Will you tell me why?" He considered it momentarily and shook his head. If he felt apologetic about it, the mask hid it well. And that scared her a little. "Do you want me to stay with you or do you want to be alone?"

He hesitated, but only briefly. His back straightened so he could lord his height over her, so he could make use of his nearly-human-sized frame. But Hal wasn't having it. She crossed her arms under her chest and lifted her brows in challenge this time, daring him to try to push her away. She tipped up her chin and set her face with her determination. He faltered, his brow pulling down with confusion. In a sort of shocked appraisal too. As if this wasn't a dance they did every time he thought to push her away when he was feeling gloomy and wallowing in his self-loathing. As if this silent conversation wasn't as well-learned by now as their naked bodies. As if he didn't remember the next step, the part where he gave her a sheepish, self-deprecating smile.

That's when Hal remembered the banner in the Main Hall. The bow in her room. The rug. The scroll. Her daggers. That's when her fingers, tucked beneath her arms and inside her open jacket, found a hole in the seam of her undershirt. A big one. Like it'd been ripped. How did that get there? She hadn't noticed it when she put it on this morning. Hal's already pale skin drained of color.

"Solas, something happened in the Main Hall earlier..." she began slowly, focusing inward now with the slow speech of eerie realization. "The anchor burned and flared and then I saw this..." She let out a breath like a laugh that wasn't actually a laugh. "I can only tell you what it  _looked_  like, but you're going to think it's foolish. Dalish. I-- I thought I was in a forest because I kept seeing these...branches or maybe roots? No, tangled branches like trees, only they were reflections and  _purple_! The same purple as my vallaslin, and they--" Her eyes snapped up to his and locked there. "It was like I was in a forest of Mythal's vallaslin, of  _my_  vallaslin, only each of the branches was...was a  _choice_ , a  _decision_ , and then I was back in the Main Hall and everything was...there are all these little things that I keep noticing..." She trailed off when she finally took in the intensity of Solas' unease, the seriousness of his worried frown. 

"Evin," he replied delicately, and now he was reaching for her chin, tracing the vallaslin there with the pad of his thumb. "You wear Ghilan'nain's vallaslin."

Hal laughed, but it was tight with the anxiety that was growing in her gut. A laugh only there because she was hopeful this was all some kind of terrible mistake or a prank and she didn't want to seem like she was starting to really doubt her sanity. Of course, nothing indicated insanity like thinking that Solas and Sera might be teaming up to trick her. "Why, because I'm your halla? I told you, everybody thought I would choose Ghilan'nain because of my name, but I--" 

Solas' frown turned wary then and he held out two fingers to indicate she should stay put before crossing to his dresser and returning with his shaving mirror. He thrust it in front of her face as if that should somehow prove she was wrong about her own vallaslin.

Except that it did.

She was wrong.

She was marked for Ghilan'nain.

She was also wearing someone else's face.

* * *

"What's-- that's--" Hal's jaw fell open. No, not her jaw. Someone else's jaw. Someone else's jaw on someone else's head covered in someone else's muscle and skin fell open. And she watched it happen with someone else's eyes. 

She thought she might throw up. 

She was patting at her face now, pinching and prodding the unfamiliar features that twisted with her horror and then her body, too, slender like she was supposed to be, but the hips a little wider, the arms of an archer, the hands of an archer, the callouses of...and her breasts!

Hal pulled out the neck of her ripped shirt when her hands filled with too much soft flesh and stared down at breasts that were not hers, nipples that weren't even the right color and shape, and bruises, love bites, except  _those_  she recognized,  _those_  she knew. 

"Solas?" she squeaked in terror, looking for comfort or explanations or  _something_! "What's happening?" She wasn't even really aware that she was backing up and grabbing for the bow she'd set down, already nocking an arrow so she could be prepared in case of...what, demons? Probably. Most likely. She was the Inquisitor after all. 

And he...he just stared at her. Puzzled her out. But she also knew what it looked like when he was becoming dangerous, and that was precisely what was happening now. His eyes darkened, his bone structure seemed more gaunt as he tucked his chin and took a purposeful step toward her. The quarters were too close. She was no melee archer. She couldn't shoot him from here. She tossed the bow down and kept the arrow, holding the point out like a knife. But she was a hunter and no match for a mage of Solas' ability without a proper dagger. She flexed her anchored hand and took a step back again. But this time she felt the wood of the door against her spine. And because she was trapped, she could no longer afford to be afraid. So she hardened herself, steeled herself, and set her flashing turquoise eyes -- no, they were violet now, violet eyes -- on his. "I'm almost certain this isn't the Fade. So what is this. What are you. Where's Solas?!"

" _I_ am Solas," the man or demon or spirit wearing Solas' form told her sharply. "But  _you_  are not Evin Lavellan."

 She was so surprised that she forgot to stab him with her arrow and it took only a wave of his hand to flick it from her grasp. To flick all of her potential weapons from her grasp. So now she stood trapped against the door, staring up in surprise and defiance at someone who looked like her heart but wasn't him at all. "No, I'm not," she agreed stubbornly. "I'm Hal'lasean Lavellan. And unless she was born in the last year or died before the last twenty, there  _is_  no Evin Lavellan!"

His hand had been reaching for her throat, and perhaps foolishly she was tilting up her chin like she was offering it to him. But she wasn't going down without a fight. Even if she had to gouge out the eyes she so loved with her thumbs to do it. But something she said froze him in place, turned his gaze from that ice-hard cruelty she'd only ever seen Solas wear in battle or against those who'd wronged him to the look he wore when he was thinking very hard and very quickly about something when the stakes were high. "And who is Hal'lasean Lavellan?" he asked, his voice too calm, too distant. He was barely holding onto his violence. 

So it probably wasn't Hal's best idea to be glib. But if she was going to die today, she was going to do it with a smirk. "Dalish hunter, Herald of Andraste, Inquisitor, girl-about-Thedas." Her smirk became a snarl. "And the heart of the  _real_  Solas."

* * *

"How is that possible?" Hal asked. She sat on the end of this Solas' bed, gaping with this Evin's mouth, making Evin's eyes wide.

"I do not know," Solas -- not her Solas, but  _a_  Solas -- admitted with a sigh from his desk chair. They had been staring at each other for what felt like hours, but was probably no more than thirty minutes, walking step by step through the forming of the Inquisition and then their last several days to come up with something,  _anything_  to explain all this. Finally, he had admitted that  _something_ , though he wouldn't say precisely what, had happened for the first time with Evin. "But I can think of no other possible explanation for the branches."

Hal scoffed derisively. "I'm not talking about the  _branches_ , you ass, I'm talking about...if the timelines are so similar, if everything else is so similar, how are you  _just now_  making love to her!" 

"It was not--" Solas snapped, but he didn't finish his protest. He clicked his teeth closed and let his already-tested mask become a hard scowl. "That is not your concern." 

Hal was unimpressed. She raised her brows with imperious expectation and crossed her arms under her chest. Perhaps it was foolish not to be cautious with a man whose behavior could only superficially be that of the man she loved, but she thought she had a ways to go before she pushed him too far. And it was also important to know just how much like her Solas this one was. Because if she was going to find a way back to her Skyhold, her family,  _her_  Solas, she was going to need this one on her side. And to do that, she needed to know who he was. "Is it her doing or yours?"

"I will not discuss this further."

Ah, thought Hal with a smug smile. "So it was yours. Of course it was. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to be the Inquisitor without waking up next to you--" She hesitated and frowned, flushed slightly, trying to figure out how best to word that. "Without..." Eventually she gave up and shook her head to clear it. "The point is, I couldn't have done any of the things I have without my Solas' love and support. I'm astounded Evin hasn't gone stark raving mad from the pressure!" 

Solas' eyes narrowed, his lips twisting upward in a sneer. So. He wanted to play. "Perhaps it is for the best you've been taken from your Solas. If you truly loved him, you would be desperate to return to him instead of prying into goings-on that are not yours."

"Lack of goings-on, you mean," countered Hal, and Solas made a sound of frustration in his throat. It was all she could do to not grin. Grumpy Solas was so much more  _fun_  when she knew happy Solas so well. "Because you only got your going on'd for the first time last night." 

"We--"

"Because I have to tell you,  _Solas_ ," and, oh, she was sure she must look very pleased with herself indeed, "I know what it feels like the morning after you've really given yourself over to your passion, and Evin is..." She almost managed not to blush, but it was still a little too intimate, and not  _her_ intimacy. "Sore in a very good way." His ears turned pink and she delicately avoided gloating.

"Do you wish to see your Solas again or not?" demanded Evin's Solas.

Hal let her expression sharpen, took away her own mask of flippant sarcasm to show just how serious she was about that proposition. "Of course I do," she growled. And then her face softened and she showed this Solas the same earnestness she would have given her own. Her pain and worry and hurt and determination. Because she would find a way back to her Solas. She would. "Of  _course_  I do. But if you had any ideas, you'd have mentioned them already."

"You do not know me so well as you think, Hal'lasean."

That sounded like a challenge. And Hal never could resist a challenge. She leaned forward on the bed, chewing on her bottom lip, her gaze fiery and mischievous. "Wanna bet." She didn't give him a chance to reply. Instead, she pushed to her feet and took a few hip-swaying steps toward him until she was just short of sitting on his lap. Because as much as her instincts said to do so, it felt...too much like being unfaithful. There were so many things she knew about her Solas, so many wonderful specifics she thought to say, but in a world where little things seemed to be different, she decided she'd need to stick with the big truths. The sweeping truths. "You don't talk about your past but you also don't make things up like Blackwall, which means whatever happened, it's painful, too painful, and you blame yourself, but you don't want to erase it because it means so much to you. It's too important and too much a part of who you are to lie about it. You carry weight and guilt from the time before that crushes you every day, you feel it every day. But you won't seek help, maybe you can't; you think only you can carry it. You always thought only you could carry it and you still do, which is why you wear the mask, you tell yourself it's to protect your burden, but it's really to protect you. Because you're scared. And it's arrogance, by the way, to think you're the only one capable of whatever it is. It's arrogance and it's insulting to Evin, who clearly is more than capable. And it's so huge and heavy, this truth, and this past, and you're exhausted by it and exhausted by the fact that you can't talk about it. But it weighs less in the Fade, it takes less out of you in the Fade, and maybe in the Fade you can see your past, you can feel a little more, the crushing doesn't hurt so much. You admire spirits for their purity but forget that each person is a spirit as well, that their purity has been molded and shaped by their experiences into something complex but equally beautiful -- which is why, by the way, the Dalish weren't willing to listen. If everyone but your fellow Dalish thought you were savage and looked down on you, if you had to fight with everything in you for the little pieces of your history you had, maybe you too wouldn't be quick to listen to a stranger who arrived to tell you that all of that was wrong! But despite your love of Compassion and your patience with things you deem pure, you're too proud to be compassionate for the people who need someone like you most." His eyes were narrowed dangerously and she stopped suddenly, frowning at him like she was pulling back his skull to look inside his head. "You're desperate to love and be loved but you don't think you deserve it. And you're holding all this back from Evin because you don't think she'll understand, you don't think she's capable of understanding or maybe you're afraid that if she knows all of you, sees the burden you bear, she'll leave you, but you know what else makes people leave you? Not showing them you love them. So if you love her, you should  _show_ her." Her brows lifted. "Otherwise you really will die alone." She paused, cleared her throat, and added, "You also have this spot just behind your testicles that--"

The branches again. Reflected, shimmering like the surface of a quiet morning lake. But this time they were moving -- no, someone was moving through them, handling them as a warrior looks for balance in a new sword. And as each branch was touched, Hal saw...memories. Moments in the life of this Evin Lavellan. The decisions she'd made as Inquisitor, a sweet but distant relationship with Solas, but a strange amount of isolation. Being the Inquisitor and the Herald lent itself to loneliness, but there was something else that kept Evin separate. An independence. A kind of tight control over...everything. Every decision, every word, carefully picked and laid out like Leliana getting dressed for an Orlesian ball. But every day. Every moment of every day. Since Redcliffe.

When she came back into Evin's body, when her hearing and sight returned, she was on the floor and Solas was leaning over her, still in his chair, waiting for her to refocus. He did not look pleased. "What did you see. Was it the branches again?"

 "Why do I keep falling?" Hal complained, frowning at the floor beneath her legs and hands. She let out a hard sigh and made herself meet this Solas' dark, angry gaze. "I saw...the branches, but then...something was moving through them, looking at them, and every one was a memory of a decision." She couldn't keep the wonder out of her eyes, even when facing the ire in his. It was uncomfortable to see such a well-loved face so disdainful of her. And that made her defensive. "It was Evin. I saw Evin's decisions in the reflected branches." Something clicked. Reflected. Reflection. Mirror image. If she was here in Evin's body and they thought maybe Evin was there in Hal's body, was it possible that... "Is Evin doing this? Is Evin looking at possibilities? How could she do that? Can the anchor do that? Because I haven't..."

She thought of all the things she might have changed if she could have seen the way they branched off her decisions. The lives she might have saved at Haven. The ways she might have better played the Game at Halamshiral. How she might have saved those Inquisition soldiers who were captured instead of having to trade their lives for the lives of civilians captured by Red Templars. So many choices, so many possibilities, and if she could have  _seen_  them, if she could see how to proceed with Corypheus, if she could...

"I could have saved so many lives," Hal breathed out, her voice thick with pain. "I could have..."

"Evin is a mage," Solas pointed out, not unkindly. "Perhaps such magic is beyond your ability."

Hal looked up suddenly, furrowing Evin's brow. "Solas, you're cruel to her. You can't love someone with one foot out the door."

His eyes became stormy and his mask settled. So she'd struck a nerve. Possibly more than one. "You do not know me. I am not your Solas." 

She gave him a very pointed look. "And Evin's? Are you hers?" 

"Are you always so meddlesome?"

 Hal gave a laugh that was almost a sob. "Only when I'm terrified."

* * *

"I think we can safely assume this has something to do with it," said Solas.

They were standing in the rotunda underneath an open, buzzing rift, staring up into it with equally perplexed frowns. It wasn't the typical kind that happened in  _her_  Thedas and she'd been willing to accept that this was just another difference, but Solas was just as puzzled by its faded nature as she was. Which probably explained why no other rift had ever sent her into some other woman's body before. 

"Any ideas?" she asked hopefully. Neither of them took their eyes off the rift.

"Not at the moment."

Hal opened and closed the fist of her marked hand, letting it spark longingly when the rift gave its little surges. Finally, when they'd been standing there uselessly for a good ten minutes, she raised her palm as she always did, pointing it at the rift. Solas grabbed her wrist and shot her a vicious glare. 

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to test it."

"Test it for what?"

Hal sighed. "I don't know, but right now we have  _nothing_ and the first time you were studying-- he was studying--" She made a sound of frustration. "The first time Solas studied the anchor, he held it up to the Breach and--"

"Yes, I know."

"Wasn't that a test?" she asked with her brows raised, waiting for his surrender. 

"That was..." he began in protest, but instead he sighed. "That was a test. Very well. But use caution. I have no desire to have you trapped here in the body of the woman I love."

He released her wrist and Hal rubbed at it just to make sure it wasn't bruised. Not that she planned to stay in this body long enough for it to bruise. She carefully avoided looking at Solas as she raised her hand again. "Why are you so concerned who's using her body? It's not like you are." 

Solas' voice was low and taut. "I cannot imagine any world in which I love you."

That hurt. That actually hurt. What had been a game, a playful back and forth that distracted her from her anxiety had just been turned into something much more cruel. Or had she turned it cruel? Was this her fault? Her cheeks burned and she straightened her shoulders and flared one little dribble of the anchor's power at the rift. Because Hal's heart was squeezing in her chest and she wasn't going to give  _this_  Solas the satisfaction of knowing how much those words had stung. Or that she felt guilty. She just wanted to go home.

The rift spasmed in response, a sudden snapping roar, and above their heads something hard and heavy dropped on the floor and a voice yelled out in surprise. A voice Hal knew only too well.

"Of course," she laughed, but she was still too hurt to mean it. "Dorian, are you still up there? Did you happen to notice the cranky green library rift?"

There was a long pause and the clatter of many things and then Dorian appeared over the banister as he had in her world, but this time he was disheveled, probably from sleeping face-down on a book, and he had his staff already brandished. "As a matter of fact, I...did not. I may have fallen asleep." He gave a helpless shrug and a crooked smile. She expected him to ask if she needed a hand. It's what her Dorian would have done. Instead he gestured to the floor of the rotunda. "Where do you want me?"

What? Hal's expression twisted with her baffled irritation. Why would she need to tell him where to go? "How should I know? Just get down here and get ready for whatever might happen!" Since when did Dorian need her to tell him what to do? Dorian never-- no, wait.  _Her_  Dorian never needed to ask because  _her_  Dorian would have gone where she most needed him without her having to say. And this was not her Dorian. The thought made her desperately sad. She had to get back.

"Did you figure out anything from the test?" she asked Solas, finally turning to look at him and unable to keep her hope from her features. "Anything use--"

The branches. They stretched out beyond her, a pale reflection, covered her with their spindly fingers, intertwining, overlapping, and Evin was moving her line of sight along them like a crafter might locate just the right tree for their next bow, their next arrows. The other Inquisitor was thumbing through images -- a ripped undershirt, did that mean that was earlier this morning? -- waking up naked in the rotunda and so happy, glowing, so in love, and then their night...which was...apparently the release of months of pent-up sexual tension and denial, and then...and then...

"You activated the mark in the Fade."

It took some time before her senses came back enough to realize that Solas had asked her a question. But more than that, that Solas was holding her to him. She must have fallen again. He must have caught her. The familiarity of the moment inspired an urge to kiss him, but this wasn't the Solas she had kissed a thousand times. And that thing he'd said...

"What happened?" he asked again, insistently. "What did you see?"

"Evin," and Hal shoved away none-too-gratefully just as Dorian appeared behind them. "I saw you and Evin and how much you love her." Which, strangely enough, made her feel more than a little possessive. Even though she wasn't particularly fond of this Solas so far. "And I saw you activate the mark in the Fade."

"Sorry, are we talking about ourselves in the third person now?" Dorian wondered. "Dorian's confused." 

"See, Dorian," Hal sighed, "I'm not Evin. I'm Hal. In another world, I'm the Inquisitor. And my Dorian and I, we're best friends. And my Solas and I, we have sex  _all_ the  _time_. But somehow I'm here, in a body that isn't mine, with a Dorian who isn't mine, with a  _Solas_  who's kind of a dick--"

"You mean yours isn't?" asked Dorian.

"Not to me," Hal sighed, and despite her pride, a lump formed in her throat and her eyes pricked threateningly. "Never to me."

 Solas was studying her with something she was struggling to place, something she'd never seen in her own Solas' eyes when he looked at her. It was appraisal, yes, but distant and cool and maybe even a little regretful, but mostly it was like he was trying to decide -- yes, that was it. He was trying to decide what about her would make his counterpart fall for someone like her so thoroughly that he would not only have sex with her, but do so frequently and joyfully. Creators, but that hurt.

 "What did you do when you activated the mark in the Fade, Solas?" she asked wearily.

 "I was..." His ears turned gently pink again. She loved when her Solas did that. "I had thought to thin the Veil." He cleared his throat and straightened his spine.

"Maker!" Dorian bemoaned. "Why!"

"Because they had sex last night," Hal replied frankly, her gaze settled on Solas. Dorian spluttered. "For the first time. And he wanted to set the mood." She probably enjoyed the way Solas' color was creeping into his cheeks now a little too much. "So do us all a favor and once I get myself back, go check the damn wards and fix whatever it is you did. I never want to come back here. Because I cannot imagine any world in which I love  _you_." 

Hal turned sharply away from him and thrust out her anchored hand at the rift.

"What are you doing!" shouted Solas furiously over the renewed din of the activated rift. 

"What I always do!" Hal shot back. "Making a choice!"

* * *

Hal's head felt like a briar patch. Lines crossing over lines crossing over lines and most of them prickly. It cleared slowly but surely and she found herself leaning heavily on a table in the Main Hall with the night steward holding her elbow and his face all concern.

"You all right, Your Worship?" 

"...I don't know," she admitted, because something felt horrible inside her, something hurt and she couldn't quite place it. And she felt like there was something she was trying to remember, something important, but the more she groped at it, the further away it got. 

The steward helped her straighten up and she smiled her gratitude. "Thanks. I guess I'm more tired than I thought."

Solas. She wanted Solas. 

Hal took her leave of the steward and made her way back up to her room, moving slowly and with a hand on the wall in case she fell again. But she didn't. When she reached her quarters, she found her lover asleep in her bed where she'd left him, a peaceable smile on his lips that brought its reflection to hers. She stripped out of her clothing and climbed naked into bed beside him. 

"Hal'lasean," he murmured sleepily, nuzzling into her neck and wrapping an arm around her to bring her closer. Then he jolted suddenly awake with a hiss. "Your feet are like ice, vhenan!"

She laughed and kissed him and made a point of putting her feet on as much of his skin as she could reach until they were wrestling and then they were making love and then they slept, tangled in each other's arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hal'lasean Lavellan (Hal) is my Inquisitor from my main fic, [Elvhenan Arises](http://archiveofourown.org/series/242476), which takes place post-game, as well as a few others set over the course of the events of Inquisition. While this technically didn't happen in the timeline for those other works, the character notes are essentially the same.
> 
> And thank you so much to [Evren](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Evren) for taking a joke and turning it into something amazing. I had such a great time working on this with you! I hope we find a reason to collaborate again in the future.
> 
>  
> 
> Elvish Translations:
> 
> "Vhenan" - "(my) heart"


End file.
